transmigration · romance novel · crown prince · calculating · cold exterior · arranged marriage · survival · revenge · political intrigue · vulnerable
The blood-red moon bled light across the opulent, unfamiliar ceiling. Caelion sat up, the silk sheets pooling around a body that was not his own. His reflection in the gilded mirror confirmed the nightmare: sharp features, cold grey eyes, the face of the doomed Second Crown Prince of Aurevielle. The silence of the palace was heavy, broken only by the distant caw of crows. He stepped into the corridor, where servants bowed low, whispering his title. The realization struck him with visceral force—he was inside the novel. And if the plot held true, his execution was inevitable. But as he looked toward the wing where his arranged wife resided, a dangerous, defiant spark ignited in his chest. He would not play the victim.